Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Blind -- Poetry 2011

Cursed in this world…

that’s what she felt;

partly her own doing,

partly extraneous events.

Those unplanned incidents

swept her under the rug.

Sucking in the dust and pet fur,

walked on by those above,

she felt smaller than small.

Infinitesimally void of hope,

she wandered restless through

trance days and trace nights.

Her turmoil wake rakes sunrise;

ripples ravage sunset reflections;

renounced moonrise exists blind …


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